Scene 4: Facing the Mountain
The group returns to Valberg to make preparations to climb the mountain. The King happily provides them with supplies. Cynics might say that he was happy to do so as few ever return from the trip and Morn represents a threat to his Throne. The more generous might point to his request that the group search for news of the fate of his son who sought to find out why the Gods were angry with their people and has not returned.
As they head out Morn has a somewhat pointed conversation with the Queen. While not revealing what he learned from the Faces in the Rock he manages to muster his normal level of subtlety, like a brick to the face. If he does manage to return then it may be to a violent reception if the Queen has anything to do with it.
Wintertop is a huge mountain in a range of behemoths. The climb is steep and arduous and many dangers lie ahead. However, they have come as well prepared as they possibly can be and make good progress. Artemis and Morn prepare the group against the harsh weather and Chiniko brings his sorcery to bear to save them from an icy fall. Despite their prowess however the going is still dangerous. Narrow icy paths wind up the mountain side and blizzards and strong winds tear at their clothes threatening to fling them from the mountain.
Azhanti, as Voice of the Stormlord decides it is time to do something about the weather. Finding a promontory of rock he steps out to the very edge, the Mantle of the Stormlord flowing behind him. He reaches out into the storms above to calm the weather and ease their passage.
*cut scene*
In the Inner Sanctum of the Temple of the Stormlords at the very top of the mountain sits the Orb of Storms, an artifact of the ancient world. Here stands Irina, Tiefling High Priestess and Mistress of the Orb. With it she commands the weather surrounding the mountain. Now a new force has appeared to challenge her dominion. As she stands over the Orb lightning arcs from her hands to and from the artifact. “Show me this interloper” she demands and an image of Azhanti appears before her. “Let us be done with him” and she bends her will to drive him from the mountain. Azhanti fights back and letting out a primal growl he breaks the storms force sending the priestess hurtling back to smash against the wall.
With the winds eased the group makes better progress. Soon they are within sight of the Monastery of the Long Night, where those who would be chosen seek entry. A narrow and painfully thin bridge of ice stretches across a deep chasm. Assamber steps forward and slits the throat of one of their pack Yaks. As its warm blood steams on the frozen ground snarling steeds of shadow and lightning take form in the air. Mounting up the group make easy work of the narrow bridge and are welcomed into the Monastery as true Chosen.
Within is a strange and different world. Here they learn is where those who are chosen are brought. There are many caverns and tunnels burrowed into the rock and hundreds of people labor to grow food and provide for the needs of their Gods who dwell above. Some small numbers of the chosen are granted even greater honor, to serve the Gods directly in the Holy City. Two chances are given. First a contest runs for those who seek such a position, and those who demonstrate strength of arms, magic or wits are taken above to serve the Gods directly. The contest continues each day with victors chosen at the end of each month. The current competition is not due to finish for another two weeks and the group has no desire to wait, especially as new arrivals receive the marking tattoos of the Gods above.
They take option two, to face The Pit. Within a well protected and isolated chamber sits a shaft deep into the mountain. Many chambers and tunnels wind through the mountains roots and these are home to all sorts of unpleasant and dangerous monsters. Those who seek entry to the Holy City must enter The Pit and face whatever comes. Loaded into a rickety cage the group is winched down into the dark. Torches are dangled on chains to provide illumination and above a great gong is rung. The locals gather at the edge of The Pit to watch the spectacle.
The thud of heavy feet announces the arrival seeking its next meal, a massive hulking Cyclops armed with a tree trunk for a club. It rushes to the attack but Morn quickly intercepts it. As the battle rages more creatures begin to spill from the narrower passages and openings, horrible mutated creatures which prove capable of stunning their opponents and which deal great damage to the insensate. Unfortunately they prove less than hardy and are quickly dispatched. Meanwhile Morn has held the Cyclops at the gate which proves utterly incapable of breaching his defences (I don’t think I had rolled higher than an 11 all night).
As the beasts fall the crowd goes wild and the group are winched back up to thunderous cheering. Ursis, leader of the Monastery comes to congratulate them personally and after much celebrating the group are prepared to travel to the Holy City. They are escorted into the Shrine of the Stormlords, anointed with oils and the left alone. Only the favoured are permitted to see what happens next. As they wait letters of blue fire begin to form on the floor. It is a teleportation circle and, with some trepidation, the group step forward.
A flash of light and the group finds themselves standing on a raised platform reaching out over the very edge of the mountain. Above them the thunder storm rages and before them the Holy City burns. In the sky above vulture headed demons twist and writhe while the plaza before them is filled with great masses of rotting dead and undead. Seeing their arrival a host of Tiefling and Human zombies shamble towards the group threatening to push them off the mountain while in the central plaza three undead tiefling warlocks prepare to unleash hell against them.
*fade to black*
Sunday 26 April 2009
Session 16: The Dreams Dragons Bring Part 3
Scene 3: The Unquiet Dead
The group decides to explore the Ice Caves, alleged resting place of the Faces in the Rock. The King provides them with supplies and a guide for their journey.
The caves were carved out of the rock by the movements of the Great Glacier, a forty mile long mass of ice and rock. They were used in ancient times by the ancestors of the Mountain People but now the glacier is melting. Great rivulets run down into the valley and more and more of the caves are exposed by its retreat. Taking the plunge ahead the group find themselves walking in tunnels of ice. The ice has trapped many strange creatures, monstrous lizards with giant teeth and humans. It’s as if the ice formed instantly, freezing everything in its path.
The group makes good progress through the caves, Artemis takes point and even Morn manages to contribute to their travels. Things are going well until the party stumbles on a large group of slavering ghouls released from the ice and hungry for blood. They flee through the tunnels ghouls snapping at their heels into yet another problem, a patrol of spectral warriors. Thinking fast Chiniko convinces the warriors that Morn is the new rightful King of the Mountain People and spectre and ghoul clash in vicious combat. While they are busy with each other the party slip away.
They are close now, the ice is still thick but the rocks are growing warmer. The chamber of the Faces in the Rock lies not far away. Assamber decides to open their way. This region was struck hard by the Ritual of Vintu, an ancient immortal who imprisoned the Elder Dragons and ended the reign of Vulcan with a magical ice age. Remnants of his ritual remain and Assamber tries to tie together those threads. Something goes wrong though and the ritual reacts with his own link to the power of Chaos through the spellstorm. The ice shatters but from it burst a mass of undead, fast moving ghouls, rotting rending lizard like creatures and an enormous undead thunder lizard.
Battle is joined and Morn manages to lock down the thunder lizard. The smaller creatures prove to be fast and dangerous but the ghouls cannot withstand Azhantis combined draconic breath and undead turning power. The battle is short and bloody but the party stand victorious. Taking the last stair they enter the first truly rocky chamber only to be faced with the biggest Dragon they have yet seen. At least sixty feet long the creature dominates the room and its head rises to bore into Morns soul. “They are waiting for you, choose your companions wisely” it says as it shifts aside revealing a narrow opening.
The group enters the final chamber. Here, carved into the rock, are a dozen enormous faces. Their voices whisper through the room and as the group approach they begin to speak Morn’s name. He paces from one to the next. “Who are you?” he asks. “We are the Lords of Storm, trapped here by Vintu the betrayer, forced to protect his precious Heart of Maran Gor, release us.” “How” he calls out. “Find the Heart son of Mirta, but be quick. He has hidden it in the Temple within Iceholme, a fragment of your homeworld, as your people brought us with them so we brought it with us. Seek out the Heart quickly and release us for even now Chaos assaults the Temple” “I have conditions, I keep the Heart and the Choosing stops” he demands. “Agreed, release us and we will drive the usurper tieflings from the Holy City” “One last thing, you see what happens to your people, how did my grandfather die” “Vala the Queen feared he would lose his Throne by rebelling against the Gods. It was her hand that let the poison slip into his cup.”
The bargain made the group heads out of the Caves and returns to Valberg to prepare to face the mountain.
The group decides to explore the Ice Caves, alleged resting place of the Faces in the Rock. The King provides them with supplies and a guide for their journey.
The caves were carved out of the rock by the movements of the Great Glacier, a forty mile long mass of ice and rock. They were used in ancient times by the ancestors of the Mountain People but now the glacier is melting. Great rivulets run down into the valley and more and more of the caves are exposed by its retreat. Taking the plunge ahead the group find themselves walking in tunnels of ice. The ice has trapped many strange creatures, monstrous lizards with giant teeth and humans. It’s as if the ice formed instantly, freezing everything in its path.
The group makes good progress through the caves, Artemis takes point and even Morn manages to contribute to their travels. Things are going well until the party stumbles on a large group of slavering ghouls released from the ice and hungry for blood. They flee through the tunnels ghouls snapping at their heels into yet another problem, a patrol of spectral warriors. Thinking fast Chiniko convinces the warriors that Morn is the new rightful King of the Mountain People and spectre and ghoul clash in vicious combat. While they are busy with each other the party slip away.
They are close now, the ice is still thick but the rocks are growing warmer. The chamber of the Faces in the Rock lies not far away. Assamber decides to open their way. This region was struck hard by the Ritual of Vintu, an ancient immortal who imprisoned the Elder Dragons and ended the reign of Vulcan with a magical ice age. Remnants of his ritual remain and Assamber tries to tie together those threads. Something goes wrong though and the ritual reacts with his own link to the power of Chaos through the spellstorm. The ice shatters but from it burst a mass of undead, fast moving ghouls, rotting rending lizard like creatures and an enormous undead thunder lizard.
Battle is joined and Morn manages to lock down the thunder lizard. The smaller creatures prove to be fast and dangerous but the ghouls cannot withstand Azhantis combined draconic breath and undead turning power. The battle is short and bloody but the party stand victorious. Taking the last stair they enter the first truly rocky chamber only to be faced with the biggest Dragon they have yet seen. At least sixty feet long the creature dominates the room and its head rises to bore into Morns soul. “They are waiting for you, choose your companions wisely” it says as it shifts aside revealing a narrow opening.
The group enters the final chamber. Here, carved into the rock, are a dozen enormous faces. Their voices whisper through the room and as the group approach they begin to speak Morn’s name. He paces from one to the next. “Who are you?” he asks. “We are the Lords of Storm, trapped here by Vintu the betrayer, forced to protect his precious Heart of Maran Gor, release us.” “How” he calls out. “Find the Heart son of Mirta, but be quick. He has hidden it in the Temple within Iceholme, a fragment of your homeworld, as your people brought us with them so we brought it with us. Seek out the Heart quickly and release us for even now Chaos assaults the Temple” “I have conditions, I keep the Heart and the Choosing stops” he demands. “Agreed, release us and we will drive the usurper tieflings from the Holy City” “One last thing, you see what happens to your people, how did my grandfather die” “Vala the Queen feared he would lose his Throne by rebelling against the Gods. It was her hand that let the poison slip into his cup.”
The bargain made the group heads out of the Caves and returns to Valberg to prepare to face the mountain.
Session 16: The Dreams Dragons Bring Part 2
Scene 2: In the Halls of the Mountain King
Our heroes have travelled far into the icy north in search of the Heart of Maran Gor. Chiniko’s unerring sense of direction has brought them to Mount Wintertop, a mountain sacred to the local people. The mountain is engulfed in a violent storm and the group decides to avoid it for now, fearing for the safety of the ship.
Instead they investigate the locals and quickly find themselves in the town of Valberg. It’s a small and rude place compared to the vast, if crumbling, City of Kings but it is the seat of Heboric, the Mountain King. The people also bear an unusual physical resemblance to Morn, one he is all but blind to.
As strange and unusual visitors to the region the group are quickly brought to the attention of the King. They enter his great hall, small and smoky compared to many they have visited where his Court ogles and stares at their outlandish clothing. The King looks old beyond his years, many troubles afflict him but his company is pleasant enough and his wife is a charming and genial host. They order a feast in celebration of the new visitors.
It is Winter in the Mountain Kingdom and, with travel, farming and herding out the people spend most of their time indoors eating, drinking and dancing. The mood is a little forced, all is not well but Chiniko spices things up by drawing out one of the Kings own dreams and weaving it with the music and performance of his bards. In the centre of the room a tall slender warrior woman takes shape and begins a dance of blades with dark cloaked figures. As the battle builds the people begin to sing and Morn finds himself singing along.
With the mood lightened the party circulates to find out what has been going on here. They learn much quickly. Azhanti is the subject of much curiosity, his kind is unknown here and he feigns a lack of knowledge of the language. Artemis speaks with the King and plies him with flattery and wine. Assamber strikes up a rapport with the brooding priest Brand while Chiniko aggravates all of the young men by becoming the centre of the attention of every unattached woman in the room.
The party soon learns that the Kingdom is suffering. They have somehow offended the Gods who have turned their face from them. Undead have arisen from the old burial grounds which have been exposed by the retreat of the great Glacier. Giants have been spotted in the Northern mountains and every omen sought by the priests has been unfavourable. The storm engulfing Mount Wintertop is believed to be the sign of the Gods anger and the Emissaries of the Gods failed to arrive for the choosing. This attracts some attention.
It seems that once a year the Storm Lords choose a number of the people to serve them on the mountain. They send their Emissaries on the wings of dragons to pick those who are worthy. This year they have not come and there is much consternation. Hebeoric fears that his brother Wolfgang, the last King, offended the Gods with his belief in the Old Ways, the worship of the Faces in the Rock.
As the party descends into drunken debauchery the doors to the Hall burst open and an ancient crone makes her way to the centre. “Morag, you are barred from my Hall, you risk my displeasure by coming here” snarls the King, deep in his cups. “I require no blessing from you false King, a true Heir to the Throne sits in this Hall now, Morn, son of Mirta, daughter of Wolfgang.” The crowd falls, silent. “Is this true” asks the King. Morn, ox grease dripping down his chin looks baffled. “I’ve no idea, never been here before in my life.” “I’ve had enough of your meddling old woman” the King declares. “Take her away, let her be stoned in the morning.”
The arrival of Morag seems to dash cold water over the party and the King and Queen retire quickly followed by the rest of the celebrants. Morn decides to try and talk to the Hag and is allowed entry. His name seems to have some power now. Morag explains a little of his history. As a child he was one of the chosen. His mother, Mirta, was a hero of the Clan and accomplished monster slayer. She was also the old Kings only daughter and as such could not inherit unless by the will of the old Kings Council. She was also a devotee of the Old Ways and urged her father to overturn the ban on their practice. Morn was chosen when he was little more than 4 years old, a highly unusual occurrence. Incensed by his virtual kidnap his mother sought the Temple of the Stormlords on the top of the mountain. Those who are not chosen can seek entry to the City by Facing the Mountain, a deadly climb up narrow, icy, monster infested cliffs. Neither Mirta nor Morn was ever seen again. Morag urges Morn to seek out the Faces in the Rock, the Old Gods of his people to learn more of the truth of these events.
Determined to make his own enquiries the group explore the castle further. The Hall of Heroes records the names, deeds and images of those who were chosen and there Morn finds an image of himself as a young boy and his mother. It is the woman drawn from the Kings dream. Further enquiries are made at the Shrine to the Stormlords, there they see images of the Emissaries, Tiefling Warriors mounted on Wyverns descending out of the sky to steal away the locals.
Shaken by these revelations Morn retreats to the high cold battlements to ponder. As he looks out over the long cold valley another figure joins him. He turns to find the spectral image of an elder northman standing before him. His hand goes to the hammer out of instinct but the spirit raises its hand in peace. “Who are you?” Morn asks. “I am Wolfgang, your Grandfather. I too often came to this place to think.” “I know what happens here” says Morn. “It’s a lie, one I could shatter in the morning if I so chose.” “Will that help your people?” the old King asks. “Can you do what is right for your people, for such is the mark of a good King.” As the spirit fades away Morn mutters under his breath “Yes, but I’m not a King.”
The group determine to seek out the Faces in the Rock the very next day and learn more of the truth.
Our heroes have travelled far into the icy north in search of the Heart of Maran Gor. Chiniko’s unerring sense of direction has brought them to Mount Wintertop, a mountain sacred to the local people. The mountain is engulfed in a violent storm and the group decides to avoid it for now, fearing for the safety of the ship.
Instead they investigate the locals and quickly find themselves in the town of Valberg. It’s a small and rude place compared to the vast, if crumbling, City of Kings but it is the seat of Heboric, the Mountain King. The people also bear an unusual physical resemblance to Morn, one he is all but blind to.
As strange and unusual visitors to the region the group are quickly brought to the attention of the King. They enter his great hall, small and smoky compared to many they have visited where his Court ogles and stares at their outlandish clothing. The King looks old beyond his years, many troubles afflict him but his company is pleasant enough and his wife is a charming and genial host. They order a feast in celebration of the new visitors.
It is Winter in the Mountain Kingdom and, with travel, farming and herding out the people spend most of their time indoors eating, drinking and dancing. The mood is a little forced, all is not well but Chiniko spices things up by drawing out one of the Kings own dreams and weaving it with the music and performance of his bards. In the centre of the room a tall slender warrior woman takes shape and begins a dance of blades with dark cloaked figures. As the battle builds the people begin to sing and Morn finds himself singing along.
With the mood lightened the party circulates to find out what has been going on here. They learn much quickly. Azhanti is the subject of much curiosity, his kind is unknown here and he feigns a lack of knowledge of the language. Artemis speaks with the King and plies him with flattery and wine. Assamber strikes up a rapport with the brooding priest Brand while Chiniko aggravates all of the young men by becoming the centre of the attention of every unattached woman in the room.
The party soon learns that the Kingdom is suffering. They have somehow offended the Gods who have turned their face from them. Undead have arisen from the old burial grounds which have been exposed by the retreat of the great Glacier. Giants have been spotted in the Northern mountains and every omen sought by the priests has been unfavourable. The storm engulfing Mount Wintertop is believed to be the sign of the Gods anger and the Emissaries of the Gods failed to arrive for the choosing. This attracts some attention.
It seems that once a year the Storm Lords choose a number of the people to serve them on the mountain. They send their Emissaries on the wings of dragons to pick those who are worthy. This year they have not come and there is much consternation. Hebeoric fears that his brother Wolfgang, the last King, offended the Gods with his belief in the Old Ways, the worship of the Faces in the Rock.
As the party descends into drunken debauchery the doors to the Hall burst open and an ancient crone makes her way to the centre. “Morag, you are barred from my Hall, you risk my displeasure by coming here” snarls the King, deep in his cups. “I require no blessing from you false King, a true Heir to the Throne sits in this Hall now, Morn, son of Mirta, daughter of Wolfgang.” The crowd falls, silent. “Is this true” asks the King. Morn, ox grease dripping down his chin looks baffled. “I’ve no idea, never been here before in my life.” “I’ve had enough of your meddling old woman” the King declares. “Take her away, let her be stoned in the morning.”
The arrival of Morag seems to dash cold water over the party and the King and Queen retire quickly followed by the rest of the celebrants. Morn decides to try and talk to the Hag and is allowed entry. His name seems to have some power now. Morag explains a little of his history. As a child he was one of the chosen. His mother, Mirta, was a hero of the Clan and accomplished monster slayer. She was also the old Kings only daughter and as such could not inherit unless by the will of the old Kings Council. She was also a devotee of the Old Ways and urged her father to overturn the ban on their practice. Morn was chosen when he was little more than 4 years old, a highly unusual occurrence. Incensed by his virtual kidnap his mother sought the Temple of the Stormlords on the top of the mountain. Those who are not chosen can seek entry to the City by Facing the Mountain, a deadly climb up narrow, icy, monster infested cliffs. Neither Mirta nor Morn was ever seen again. Morag urges Morn to seek out the Faces in the Rock, the Old Gods of his people to learn more of the truth of these events.
Determined to make his own enquiries the group explore the castle further. The Hall of Heroes records the names, deeds and images of those who were chosen and there Morn finds an image of himself as a young boy and his mother. It is the woman drawn from the Kings dream. Further enquiries are made at the Shrine to the Stormlords, there they see images of the Emissaries, Tiefling Warriors mounted on Wyverns descending out of the sky to steal away the locals.
Shaken by these revelations Morn retreats to the high cold battlements to ponder. As he looks out over the long cold valley another figure joins him. He turns to find the spectral image of an elder northman standing before him. His hand goes to the hammer out of instinct but the spirit raises its hand in peace. “Who are you?” Morn asks. “I am Wolfgang, your Grandfather. I too often came to this place to think.” “I know what happens here” says Morn. “It’s a lie, one I could shatter in the morning if I so chose.” “Will that help your people?” the old King asks. “Can you do what is right for your people, for such is the mark of a good King.” As the spirit fades away Morn mutters under his breath “Yes, but I’m not a King.”
The group determine to seek out the Faces in the Rock the very next day and learn more of the truth.
Session 16: The Dreams Dragons Bring Part 1
The Vision
Azhantis player was back for this session so we had a bit of a flashback to his vision from the ship sailing too close to the prison of Sopias.
Scene 1: The Ship of Dreams
Azhanti emerges from his sleep standing alone on a vast sandy desert. It is a desolate, heat blasted and lonely place. Far to the south he can see a line of mountains and from them blows a slight breeze with barely audible voices carried by it. They seem to be calling his name.
Determined to find their source he sets off. The sun is at its zenith and refuses to move. Heat beats down at him, slowly baking him in his armour. He refuses to relent. An elder Dragonborn warlock joins him and offers him a place to rest and seek shade. He nearly turns away but resists temptation. He continues, his shield and axe now drag at his limbs, pulling him to lay down and rest but he wont stop, he cannot stop. The voices call him on. The elder returns and offers him water to ease his raging thirst. He refuses, the mountains are close now but he is faced with a long hard climb.
Steeling himself he shrugs off the elders continued distractions and makes the climb. The sun sets behind him and his shadow flows out ahead of him, driving him to the head of a narrow gully cut into the rocks. As he reaches the head of the pass into the mountains he collapses, exhaustion finally claiming him.
He is awoken by the beating of wings and a gust of wings. A huge golden dragon descends on him demanding to know who intrudes on the domain of the Dragons. He pulls himself to his feet and declares himself, "I am Azhanti, the Stormlord." The dragon backhands him across the pass and pounces, "That remains to be seen."
Snatching him up the two of them fly at breakneck speed through the mountains until he is dropped onto a tall column in the centre of a wide valley. Out of the sky more dragons descend in many different colours, gold, silver, bronze, white, green, red and more. They interrogate him closely, eager to learn who he is and what he wants. Azhanti declares his goals, to achieve dominion over the next cycle for the Dragonborn. His worth is questioned, "The Emperor is more worthy than you." "But he has been corrupted by the softskins" he replies.
As the sun rises the Dragons turn. "Behold, Azhanti, your promise to the future." Beyond the valley lies a vast grassy plain and in the sky wheel dozens, perhaps hundreds of dragons of every colour imaginable. As his vision begins to fade he turns to face them and behind him, carved into the face of the mountain is a vast statue of a dragon, a statue with his face. Their voices resound in his mind "We are the shape of things to come, your enemies seek to disrupt the timeline, call on us in your hour of greatest need."
Azhantis player was back for this session so we had a bit of a flashback to his vision from the ship sailing too close to the prison of Sopias.
Scene 1: The Ship of Dreams
Azhanti emerges from his sleep standing alone on a vast sandy desert. It is a desolate, heat blasted and lonely place. Far to the south he can see a line of mountains and from them blows a slight breeze with barely audible voices carried by it. They seem to be calling his name.
Determined to find their source he sets off. The sun is at its zenith and refuses to move. Heat beats down at him, slowly baking him in his armour. He refuses to relent. An elder Dragonborn warlock joins him and offers him a place to rest and seek shade. He nearly turns away but resists temptation. He continues, his shield and axe now drag at his limbs, pulling him to lay down and rest but he wont stop, he cannot stop. The voices call him on. The elder returns and offers him water to ease his raging thirst. He refuses, the mountains are close now but he is faced with a long hard climb.
Steeling himself he shrugs off the elders continued distractions and makes the climb. The sun sets behind him and his shadow flows out ahead of him, driving him to the head of a narrow gully cut into the rocks. As he reaches the head of the pass into the mountains he collapses, exhaustion finally claiming him.
He is awoken by the beating of wings and a gust of wings. A huge golden dragon descends on him demanding to know who intrudes on the domain of the Dragons. He pulls himself to his feet and declares himself, "I am Azhanti, the Stormlord." The dragon backhands him across the pass and pounces, "That remains to be seen."
Snatching him up the two of them fly at breakneck speed through the mountains until he is dropped onto a tall column in the centre of a wide valley. Out of the sky more dragons descend in many different colours, gold, silver, bronze, white, green, red and more. They interrogate him closely, eager to learn who he is and what he wants. Azhanti declares his goals, to achieve dominion over the next cycle for the Dragonborn. His worth is questioned, "The Emperor is more worthy than you." "But he has been corrupted by the softskins" he replies.
As the sun rises the Dragons turn. "Behold, Azhanti, your promise to the future." Beyond the valley lies a vast grassy plain and in the sky wheel dozens, perhaps hundreds of dragons of every colour imaginable. As his vision begins to fade he turns to face them and behind him, carved into the face of the mountain is a vast statue of a dragon, a statue with his face. Their voices resound in his mind "We are the shape of things to come, your enemies seek to disrupt the timeline, call on us in your hour of greatest need."
Session 16: The Dreams Dragons Bring
With the Heart of Mael secure in their possession our heroes travel far into the icy North to find the Heart of Maran Gor, Primordial of the Earth. Somewhere in those frozen mountains also live Morns people, a people he has no memory of having been a slave of the Tieflings as long as he can recall. Many secrets and terrible revelations yet lie before him, how will the embittered fallen Paladin react to them? With traditional violence one assumes...
Before that however the mists of time roll back, back to the Ship of Dreams and a night of strange and disturbing visions. We have yet to see how Azhanti fared that evening. Now we find out.
Sunday 5 April 2009
Session 15: Interlude Part 2
Politics is a Dirty Business
Our heroes awake refreshed with the memories of their strange dreams fading into the background. In time they will remember everything but for now mostly snatches of them remain.
The ship has arrived back at the Lokarnos City Ship and a meeting is quickly arranged with its leader Iridalla. Assamber decides that honesty is the best policy (the others are less certain) and tells her everything. He draws on the power of the Heart of Mael and conjures an image of Vedris to speak with her sister. Angry words are exchanged and an offer is made but refused.
Assamber tries to get a pledge from Iridalla that she will lossen the suffocating social structures from the Lokarnos but he doesnt really get very far. He does get her to agree to send a diplomat/emissary/spy to the temple of Mael to at least begin to open a dialogue between the two. Assamber has plans it seems for the Temple of Mael although they have very little to do with what Mael wants.
The Ship of Fools
With the last bits of politicking done the group head to the mad old Captain Strom. He is a servant of Mael, on the Path of the Huntsman who has spent the last twenty years proving his worth by hunting and killing the children of Mael. The Kraken is the last step on the path for him. With its death he opens the door to potential immortality for himself and a place in the Great Hunt.
Artemis however has different ideas as the two are rivals.
The captains ship sails out into the deep and a great bone drum is brought out. The bowsun, a brawny sailor begins to pound th drum, specifically enchanted to summon monsters of the deep. From his vantage point in the rigging Artemis sees the sea rise as the Kraken approaches. It is bigger than anything they ever expected, the creature has grown. Nauseating light spills from its forehead where a chunk of a chaos god is lodged. The thing must be half a mile long and hundreds of tentacles lash forward to grab the ship, masts, rigging and men as the beast swallows them all.
Down Amongst the Dead Men
The ship careens down the creatures gullet and as it does so great fleshy masses of tentacles drop down onto the deck. As they are swallowed demonic faces can be seen pressing against the sides of its throat trying to push through. They cannot emerge fully which is just as well but they still strafe the deck with foul smelling acidic chaos imbued sludge.
The ship is quickly carried away from the monsters but the situation is no better. It is deposited in the Krakens stomach on a sea of blood. Great tears and rents have been carved out of its stomach and blood and chaos have congealed together to form a noxious and deadly soup. Something is here using this power to create new demons to birth upon the world. As they pilot across this sludgy mess multi clawed, multi limbed demons rise up and charge the ship supported by flaming pillars of blood. The attack is swift and vicious but severely blunted as Assamber freezes the bloody elementals into place. The lesser demons are quickly dispatched and the demonic ruler of the place cannot overcome them on its own.
The party abandon the ship and push their way through the Krakens innards on foot. The Captain seems to know his way to the heart chamber and they quickly arrive. Pus and blood and slime cover the floor and in the centre stands a great bony shell protecting the Heart.
The Betrayal
As they step forward a voice like a thousand hissing serpents fills the Chamber. "This is mine, you cannot have it, I will not be stopped" spits the last remnant of That Which Dwells Beneath. Morn steps forward and their eyes meet. It recognises him from his dream and snarls in anger.
Once he was a Lord of Chaos, a star faring entity of almost unlimited power which devoured worlds. The battle to reach this one went badly and he was killed, sundered into many pieces one of which fell here and was eaten by the Kraken. This is its last chance to survive, a chance it is unfortunately doomed to fail. It takes the form of an enormous mass of writhing snakes over twenty feet high. Its arms are cordoned masses of serpents ending in dozens of fang filled snakey fingers. That wont help it and although it strikes quickly it is overmatched.
It summons the Children of the Fang to aid it and they fall before the sorcery of the Captain, it tries to overwhelm the group with a mass of snakes but Chiniko counters its powers with ease, its tries to shield itself from its enemies but Chiniko bends fate itself and the creature is quickly destroyed.
While battle has raged the Captain has focused on destroying the bone casing of the Krakens heart. All he has to do is pierce the heart with his spear, bathe in its blood and he will have succeded. He is focused on his task when Morn strikes, shattering the casing with the hammer of Maran Gor and stunning the Captain. Artemis strikes, igniting the Bow of Ashura and Chiniko pronounces its doom. The Heart explodes showering them with blood and the Captain dies screaming, his quest for immortality a failure.
The Krakens body convulves as it enters its death throws. Artemis grabs the Captains body while Assamber gathers the ichor of the Kraken, infused with the blood of Mael. Morn hangs around to make sure that he doesnt try to recover any of the Chaos God while Chiniko scarpers for the boat. Delayed by their efforts the other three find themselves engulfed by a wave of disgusing internal fluids, blood and chaos and as they stagger back to the boat much of their equipment has dissolved into so much useless junk.
With the last of its death throws the Kraken vomits up the contents of its stomach. The wreckage of the ship is scattered across the ocean with our heroes clinging to the remnants. In time they are rescued by the Ship of Dreams and are returned to the Lokarnos City hailed as heroes.
*cut scene*
Iridalla floats within her sanctum in silent communion with her sisters. "Are we decided." Five voices reply in unison. "Yes, the Maelstrom must be protected. He has placed the Stone there. With Mael loose some fool might try to use it again"
"So be it, we shall raise the Krakens spirit and set it to Guard the Stone."
*cut scene two*
The Lokarnos City Ship Inevitable sits just off the coast of Arkhosia. A fleet of smaller boats hover all around it embarking thousands of Arkhosian soldiers ready for the invasion of the Dreaming City States of Ancient Pesh. The Emperor has committed five legions to his conquest and a wing of dragon riders. Even now the dream dragons curl in the bowels of the ship, sleeping so that their fiery might is ready to be unleashed when they arrive.
The Inevitable sails into the distance to much fanfare and cheering. The Emperor himself comes to see his armada leave. It is a good day to be a man who wants to rule the world.
That night, out of sight of land the Lokarnos host a great celebration for their Dragonborn allies. Huge vats of wine and platters of food are served and the party continues long into the night.
In the morning the Lokarnos hurl the corpses of the Legionaires into the deep. It is a good day to be a hungry shark.
In the bowels of the ship Minara, daughter of Mael surveys her latest acquisition. "Good, very good, you will serve me well against your master." Below her five dream dragons twist and snarl, caught in the coils of her sorcery. Soon their minds will be hers and then the daughter of Mael will teach the upstart Emperor the true meaning of betrayal.
Our heroes awake refreshed with the memories of their strange dreams fading into the background. In time they will remember everything but for now mostly snatches of them remain.
The ship has arrived back at the Lokarnos City Ship and a meeting is quickly arranged with its leader Iridalla. Assamber decides that honesty is the best policy (the others are less certain) and tells her everything. He draws on the power of the Heart of Mael and conjures an image of Vedris to speak with her sister. Angry words are exchanged and an offer is made but refused.
Assamber tries to get a pledge from Iridalla that she will lossen the suffocating social structures from the Lokarnos but he doesnt really get very far. He does get her to agree to send a diplomat/emissary/spy to the temple of Mael to at least begin to open a dialogue between the two. Assamber has plans it seems for the Temple of Mael although they have very little to do with what Mael wants.
The Ship of Fools
With the last bits of politicking done the group head to the mad old Captain Strom. He is a servant of Mael, on the Path of the Huntsman who has spent the last twenty years proving his worth by hunting and killing the children of Mael. The Kraken is the last step on the path for him. With its death he opens the door to potential immortality for himself and a place in the Great Hunt.
Artemis however has different ideas as the two are rivals.
The captains ship sails out into the deep and a great bone drum is brought out. The bowsun, a brawny sailor begins to pound th drum, specifically enchanted to summon monsters of the deep. From his vantage point in the rigging Artemis sees the sea rise as the Kraken approaches. It is bigger than anything they ever expected, the creature has grown. Nauseating light spills from its forehead where a chunk of a chaos god is lodged. The thing must be half a mile long and hundreds of tentacles lash forward to grab the ship, masts, rigging and men as the beast swallows them all.
Down Amongst the Dead Men
The ship careens down the creatures gullet and as it does so great fleshy masses of tentacles drop down onto the deck. As they are swallowed demonic faces can be seen pressing against the sides of its throat trying to push through. They cannot emerge fully which is just as well but they still strafe the deck with foul smelling acidic chaos imbued sludge.
The ship is quickly carried away from the monsters but the situation is no better. It is deposited in the Krakens stomach on a sea of blood. Great tears and rents have been carved out of its stomach and blood and chaos have congealed together to form a noxious and deadly soup. Something is here using this power to create new demons to birth upon the world. As they pilot across this sludgy mess multi clawed, multi limbed demons rise up and charge the ship supported by flaming pillars of blood. The attack is swift and vicious but severely blunted as Assamber freezes the bloody elementals into place. The lesser demons are quickly dispatched and the demonic ruler of the place cannot overcome them on its own.
The party abandon the ship and push their way through the Krakens innards on foot. The Captain seems to know his way to the heart chamber and they quickly arrive. Pus and blood and slime cover the floor and in the centre stands a great bony shell protecting the Heart.
The Betrayal
As they step forward a voice like a thousand hissing serpents fills the Chamber. "This is mine, you cannot have it, I will not be stopped" spits the last remnant of That Which Dwells Beneath. Morn steps forward and their eyes meet. It recognises him from his dream and snarls in anger.
Once he was a Lord of Chaos, a star faring entity of almost unlimited power which devoured worlds. The battle to reach this one went badly and he was killed, sundered into many pieces one of which fell here and was eaten by the Kraken. This is its last chance to survive, a chance it is unfortunately doomed to fail. It takes the form of an enormous mass of writhing snakes over twenty feet high. Its arms are cordoned masses of serpents ending in dozens of fang filled snakey fingers. That wont help it and although it strikes quickly it is overmatched.
It summons the Children of the Fang to aid it and they fall before the sorcery of the Captain, it tries to overwhelm the group with a mass of snakes but Chiniko counters its powers with ease, its tries to shield itself from its enemies but Chiniko bends fate itself and the creature is quickly destroyed.
While battle has raged the Captain has focused on destroying the bone casing of the Krakens heart. All he has to do is pierce the heart with his spear, bathe in its blood and he will have succeded. He is focused on his task when Morn strikes, shattering the casing with the hammer of Maran Gor and stunning the Captain. Artemis strikes, igniting the Bow of Ashura and Chiniko pronounces its doom. The Heart explodes showering them with blood and the Captain dies screaming, his quest for immortality a failure.
The Krakens body convulves as it enters its death throws. Artemis grabs the Captains body while Assamber gathers the ichor of the Kraken, infused with the blood of Mael. Morn hangs around to make sure that he doesnt try to recover any of the Chaos God while Chiniko scarpers for the boat. Delayed by their efforts the other three find themselves engulfed by a wave of disgusing internal fluids, blood and chaos and as they stagger back to the boat much of their equipment has dissolved into so much useless junk.
With the last of its death throws the Kraken vomits up the contents of its stomach. The wreckage of the ship is scattered across the ocean with our heroes clinging to the remnants. In time they are rescued by the Ship of Dreams and are returned to the Lokarnos City hailed as heroes.
*cut scene*
Iridalla floats within her sanctum in silent communion with her sisters. "Are we decided." Five voices reply in unison. "Yes, the Maelstrom must be protected. He has placed the Stone there. With Mael loose some fool might try to use it again"
"So be it, we shall raise the Krakens spirit and set it to Guard the Stone."
*cut scene two*
The Lokarnos City Ship Inevitable sits just off the coast of Arkhosia. A fleet of smaller boats hover all around it embarking thousands of Arkhosian soldiers ready for the invasion of the Dreaming City States of Ancient Pesh. The Emperor has committed five legions to his conquest and a wing of dragon riders. Even now the dream dragons curl in the bowels of the ship, sleeping so that their fiery might is ready to be unleashed when they arrive.
The Inevitable sails into the distance to much fanfare and cheering. The Emperor himself comes to see his armada leave. It is a good day to be a man who wants to rule the world.
That night, out of sight of land the Lokarnos host a great celebration for their Dragonborn allies. Huge vats of wine and platters of food are served and the party continues long into the night.
In the morning the Lokarnos hurl the corpses of the Legionaires into the deep. It is a good day to be a hungry shark.
In the bowels of the ship Minara, daughter of Mael surveys her latest acquisition. "Good, very good, you will serve me well against your master." Below her five dream dragons twist and snarl, caught in the coils of her sorcery. Soon their minds will be hers and then the daughter of Mael will teach the upstart Emperor the true meaning of betrayal.
Session 15: Interlude Part 1
Having overcome the forces of the undersea region our heroes prepare to return to the surface world. Assamber, now the highest ranking servant of Mael (heretic that he might be) establishes a power base for himself in the Temple and orders his people to go forth and trade.
The Ship of Dreams sails on no ordinary currents. It navigates the pathways of Dream, the realm of the imprisoned Primordial Sopias. Occasionally travellers sail too close to his prison and the mad god touches the minds of those who draw near showing them images of the past, present and future.
As our heroes take some well earned rest the mists of Sopias roll over them carrying them away deep into the realm of Dream.
Morn wakes to find himself amongst a panicking multitude of people. He is a young man, no more than 14 or 15 burdened down by many bags and stumbling over his staff of office, only recently received on his elevation to Apprentice Mage. He must get to his master, he knows that he has many of the components he will require for the great Undertaking that will save these, the last remnant of humanity. Hijacking a cart he careens through the throng and tumbles into the meeting of his Master with the King. The five great Magi of the Incarnum are here, ready to perform the Ritual which will save them all from the Chaos Gods they have summoned which threaten to devour their world.
The Magi gather and the King departs with his advisors. In the distance a rolling cloud of blackness races towards them. The Lords of Chaos dwell within, That Which Dwells Beneath, The Shadow of the Void, The King in Yellow and more hunger for the last blood of humanity. The Ritual begins as the Magi construct a huge bridge of light, an escape from this world. Morn hesitates, he looks full in the face of chaos turning away only at the last possible moment. As the bridge carries him to safety he watches a world dissolve into unrestrained chaos.
It is several weeks later. The bridge has deposited the remnants of humanity onto a new world, a great grassy plain near the ocean. Morn recognises the stars, they are not far from where the City of Kings will one day rise. He is stood with the Kings advisors, one of the few Magi left. A tall figure enters the room and it falls quiet. He bows to the King. "We have scouted the region my lord, there is no intelligent life here only some primitive lizard people. They will pose no impediment to our rule" As he does so his men throw down the dead body of a Dragonborn, cut to pieces. "Very well General Reptos, we shall build our Capitol here."
Assamber finds himself stood on the rolling deck of a Lokarnos City Ship in the middle of a terrible storm. He is dressed as a senior Priest of Ul-oo-thee and Vedris, daughter of Mael writhes in ritual ecstacy before him. The seven ships of the Lokarnos fleet are here and on each the daughters of Mael perform the Ritual of Binding. This is their vengeance against their father who is trapped within the Maelstrom, the great whirlpool at the centre of the world. He is slowly sinking into the depths as the Ritual reaches its climx.
Around him the Priests of Ul-oo-thee begin to explode, their essence used to power the Ritual, drawn into the raging spellstorm at the edge of the Maelstrom. Some resist, hurling themselves into the Maelstrom, shedding their physical bodies and joining Mael. Beneath him Assamber can sense the rolling power of pure Chaos, the original force of creation, the power which the Primoridals used to breathe everything into existence. It is close enough to touch if only he reaches out. He begins to dissolve himself into the Spellstorm when Vedris turns to him.
"Leaving so soon Assamber, would you so readily accept the limited power of the Spellstorm. Look into the heart of creation, this is the crucible of all things. Together we can learn its secrets, together we shall achieve unlimited power."
Assamber turns to her. "You are afraid and untrustworthy, you would use me as you have these. I reject you. I will take this power for myself."
Artemis finds himself standing naked on the cold marble stones of a balcony in a palace overlooking an ancient city. The City curves and twists with the surrounding jungle, the two intermixed and at its heart stands a great golden pyramid.
"Come back to bed my love" comes a voice from behind as slender arms enccircle his chest. Turning he finds himself looking deep into the eyes of a beautiful woman. In the mirror behind he sees himself but not himself. A stranger looks back at him but one marked with the symbol of the Master of the Hunt, a path he has just begun to walk.
"Who are you?" She steps backs, she looks confused, hurt perhaps. "You know me Artralis, I am K'shatta, the woman you love. The woman you found in the eternal city of Tamurlan" "I dont know you, my name is Artemis"
She rears back. "Thats not possible, the vision failed and yet you are here. I had sought to divine the future for my dreams have been dark of late. Somehow you have come here, I dont know how. We dont have much time. You are my future, Tamurlan is lost, the Eternal City is the promise of Ashura on his deathbed. A City beyond the influence of God or Demon or Primordial. Only the Huntsman can reach the Gates of Tamurlan and only you can ensure its and my rebirth. Come to me Artemis, come to me you are my only hope"
Chiniko is used to the dreams which Sopias brings. He has travelled their paths many times. It is no surprise for him to find himself in the body of some alien hunter on a desolate tundra, wrapped in animal furs and standing over the corpse of an ancient enemy. His people have been at war with the creature he has killed for thousands of years. Genocide is all they know and now the last of their kind lies just a little way off hiding in a ruined keep. He has killed its mate, now he will end their line forever.
He leaps up into the ruins scenting the trail. He has his spear with him, the flint spearhead infused with powerful sorcery. There is a flash of movement from above and he twists to meet its leap. The spear pierces its chest and it collapses onto the stones. Their eyes meet. "You are too late" A rent opens in the sky above the keep and from the top of the tower two children leap through. "My children will live."
His perspective changes. He is the corpse of the creature. In the sky above him the tear has widened, a large ugly bruise across the sky. Five figures walk up the hill. He recognises one, a dark humanoid shape surrounded by flowing purple mist. It is Sopias and the others must be his brother Primoridals.
Sopias speaks, "This cannot be permitted to be, if left unchecked it will undo all we have created" "We are forbidden from interfering" the others reply. "Our compact binds us all, this world is theirs, they will do with it as they will." Turning on them Sopias objects "They are still children, they have much to learn." The others shake their heads. "Do not do this brother, it will harm you" "I know" he says and as he expands to swallow the rift into Chaos he turns to Chiniko "Remember."
His perspective changes again. He is an old man, older perhaps than any other. His name is Utu'Kamla, the first Archmage and as he sits in meditation he contains the Primoridal Sopias within his mind, driven insane by his exposure to Chaos. Sopias thrashes within his chains, desperate for release. Chiniko struggles against the binds holding him but he cannot break the old mans will.
The Primordials gather around the old man. "You had best hurry up and do something, I cannot keep him here for ever" he snaps at them. Again and again Sopias changes form pressing against the barrier. Suddenly he goes still, his face emerges from the mass in a moment of sanity. "Do it" he gasps and plunges his fist into his chest ripping out his heart and dropping it into the old mans hands. His brothers follow suit and drawing on the power of the hearts the old man binds Sopias into the Labyrinth and raises the Spire above it, an eternal marker and impenetrable defence to the prison of the mad god.
As Sopias sinks beneath the earth he looks at Chiniko, "Remember"
Azhanti [To be added]
The Ship of Dreams sails on no ordinary currents. It navigates the pathways of Dream, the realm of the imprisoned Primordial Sopias. Occasionally travellers sail too close to his prison and the mad god touches the minds of those who draw near showing them images of the past, present and future.
As our heroes take some well earned rest the mists of Sopias roll over them carrying them away deep into the realm of Dream.
Morn wakes to find himself amongst a panicking multitude of people. He is a young man, no more than 14 or 15 burdened down by many bags and stumbling over his staff of office, only recently received on his elevation to Apprentice Mage. He must get to his master, he knows that he has many of the components he will require for the great Undertaking that will save these, the last remnant of humanity. Hijacking a cart he careens through the throng and tumbles into the meeting of his Master with the King. The five great Magi of the Incarnum are here, ready to perform the Ritual which will save them all from the Chaos Gods they have summoned which threaten to devour their world.
The Magi gather and the King departs with his advisors. In the distance a rolling cloud of blackness races towards them. The Lords of Chaos dwell within, That Which Dwells Beneath, The Shadow of the Void, The King in Yellow and more hunger for the last blood of humanity. The Ritual begins as the Magi construct a huge bridge of light, an escape from this world. Morn hesitates, he looks full in the face of chaos turning away only at the last possible moment. As the bridge carries him to safety he watches a world dissolve into unrestrained chaos.
It is several weeks later. The bridge has deposited the remnants of humanity onto a new world, a great grassy plain near the ocean. Morn recognises the stars, they are not far from where the City of Kings will one day rise. He is stood with the Kings advisors, one of the few Magi left. A tall figure enters the room and it falls quiet. He bows to the King. "We have scouted the region my lord, there is no intelligent life here only some primitive lizard people. They will pose no impediment to our rule" As he does so his men throw down the dead body of a Dragonborn, cut to pieces. "Very well General Reptos, we shall build our Capitol here."
Assamber finds himself stood on the rolling deck of a Lokarnos City Ship in the middle of a terrible storm. He is dressed as a senior Priest of Ul-oo-thee and Vedris, daughter of Mael writhes in ritual ecstacy before him. The seven ships of the Lokarnos fleet are here and on each the daughters of Mael perform the Ritual of Binding. This is their vengeance against their father who is trapped within the Maelstrom, the great whirlpool at the centre of the world. He is slowly sinking into the depths as the Ritual reaches its climx.
Around him the Priests of Ul-oo-thee begin to explode, their essence used to power the Ritual, drawn into the raging spellstorm at the edge of the Maelstrom. Some resist, hurling themselves into the Maelstrom, shedding their physical bodies and joining Mael. Beneath him Assamber can sense the rolling power of pure Chaos, the original force of creation, the power which the Primoridals used to breathe everything into existence. It is close enough to touch if only he reaches out. He begins to dissolve himself into the Spellstorm when Vedris turns to him.
"Leaving so soon Assamber, would you so readily accept the limited power of the Spellstorm. Look into the heart of creation, this is the crucible of all things. Together we can learn its secrets, together we shall achieve unlimited power."
Assamber turns to her. "You are afraid and untrustworthy, you would use me as you have these. I reject you. I will take this power for myself."
Artemis finds himself standing naked on the cold marble stones of a balcony in a palace overlooking an ancient city. The City curves and twists with the surrounding jungle, the two intermixed and at its heart stands a great golden pyramid.
"Come back to bed my love" comes a voice from behind as slender arms enccircle his chest. Turning he finds himself looking deep into the eyes of a beautiful woman. In the mirror behind he sees himself but not himself. A stranger looks back at him but one marked with the symbol of the Master of the Hunt, a path he has just begun to walk.
"Who are you?" She steps backs, she looks confused, hurt perhaps. "You know me Artralis, I am K'shatta, the woman you love. The woman you found in the eternal city of Tamurlan" "I dont know you, my name is Artemis"
She rears back. "Thats not possible, the vision failed and yet you are here. I had sought to divine the future for my dreams have been dark of late. Somehow you have come here, I dont know how. We dont have much time. You are my future, Tamurlan is lost, the Eternal City is the promise of Ashura on his deathbed. A City beyond the influence of God or Demon or Primordial. Only the Huntsman can reach the Gates of Tamurlan and only you can ensure its and my rebirth. Come to me Artemis, come to me you are my only hope"
Chiniko is used to the dreams which Sopias brings. He has travelled their paths many times. It is no surprise for him to find himself in the body of some alien hunter on a desolate tundra, wrapped in animal furs and standing over the corpse of an ancient enemy. His people have been at war with the creature he has killed for thousands of years. Genocide is all they know and now the last of their kind lies just a little way off hiding in a ruined keep. He has killed its mate, now he will end their line forever.
He leaps up into the ruins scenting the trail. He has his spear with him, the flint spearhead infused with powerful sorcery. There is a flash of movement from above and he twists to meet its leap. The spear pierces its chest and it collapses onto the stones. Their eyes meet. "You are too late" A rent opens in the sky above the keep and from the top of the tower two children leap through. "My children will live."
His perspective changes. He is the corpse of the creature. In the sky above him the tear has widened, a large ugly bruise across the sky. Five figures walk up the hill. He recognises one, a dark humanoid shape surrounded by flowing purple mist. It is Sopias and the others must be his brother Primoridals.
Sopias speaks, "This cannot be permitted to be, if left unchecked it will undo all we have created" "We are forbidden from interfering" the others reply. "Our compact binds us all, this world is theirs, they will do with it as they will." Turning on them Sopias objects "They are still children, they have much to learn." The others shake their heads. "Do not do this brother, it will harm you" "I know" he says and as he expands to swallow the rift into Chaos he turns to Chiniko "Remember."
His perspective changes again. He is an old man, older perhaps than any other. His name is Utu'Kamla, the first Archmage and as he sits in meditation he contains the Primoridal Sopias within his mind, driven insane by his exposure to Chaos. Sopias thrashes within his chains, desperate for release. Chiniko struggles against the binds holding him but he cannot break the old mans will.
The Primordials gather around the old man. "You had best hurry up and do something, I cannot keep him here for ever" he snaps at them. Again and again Sopias changes form pressing against the barrier. Suddenly he goes still, his face emerges from the mass in a moment of sanity. "Do it" he gasps and plunges his fist into his chest ripping out his heart and dropping it into the old mans hands. His brothers follow suit and drawing on the power of the hearts the old man binds Sopias into the Labyrinth and raises the Spire above it, an eternal marker and impenetrable defence to the prison of the mad god.
As Sopias sinks beneath the earth he looks at Chiniko, "Remember"
Azhanti [To be added]
Saturday 4 April 2009
Session 15: Interlude
The Ship of Dreams is no ordinary vessel and its home is no ocean or sea known to men. It navigates the currents and eddies of the vast uncharted sea of Dreams, the border between reality and the unchained madness of beyond.
This is the Realm of Sopias, the imprisoned Primordial and those currents can bring the unwary traveller close to the gates of his prison. On such occasions travellers might experience strange and frightening visions of that which was, that which is and that which has yet to come to pass.
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